


Xanthorrhoeas

by skybluegal



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Banter, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Post-Break Up, Slow Burn, bodyguard!Cassian, lawyer!Nesta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:14:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25173700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybluegal/pseuds/skybluegal
Summary: It’s a little known fact that lingering in the ashes of fire, the beautiful Xanthorrhoeas can spring up again.Six years after a nasty breakup, Nesta Jia Archeron and Cassian Ramirez still can’t seem to get away from each other.As Nesta seeks to make sure that life-saving healthcare ends up in the right hands, and far away from Hybern’s hands, she begins to attract threat after threat. Underneath carefully curated pearls, stilettos and tweed jackets, Nesta’s a viper waiting to strike. But she’s fresh out of law school, and the Archeron sisters are wading into dangerously flammable territory.Where flame appears, heat follows close behind.Cassian Ramirez is ex-Marine. After two tours, a breakup, and one honourable discharge, Ramirez Securities is a leading digital and personal security company. Nesta has always been his kryptonite; and when he gets the call, there’s no question - he’s always going to have her back. Semper fidelis. Always faithful.And maybe, just maybe, something else will bloom too.
Relationships: Elain Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 33
Kudos: 65





	1. Fire and Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian and Nesta haven't spoken for a year and a half. 
> 
> A not-so-chance encounter at a certain gala will send new flames alight, burning brightly.

She wanted to be here about as much as Rhysand seemed to want Keir to be here. His arm was curled protectively around Feyre, both dressed to the nines as they greeted each guest with smiles and hugs. The gala was yet another one of Rhysand’s obligations as the CEO of the massive technology conglomerate, Velaris. There were perks to being a thirty something heir of a recently deemed Fortune 500 company: thousands of employees, a healthy salary and almost anything money could buy, but it did not preclude Rhys from having to deal with pompous old white men and their entitled children. Tomas being one of them. Nesta didn’t want to think about her ex, who she saw with two women wrapped around him in a corner.

Unfortunately, she was about two seconds away from pouring her virgin margarita on his smarmy face. He grinned as he saw Nesta and gave an arrogant half-wave, half-beckon, still ensconced by the two blondes, each wearing a tiny scrap of a dress. She ignored him resolutely.

That fucking asshole. Two years, and all she had for it was a shitload of trauma and therapy - six months and still counting.

“Nesta, there you are.” Helion, smoothly said as he finally arrived, wrapping a soft, manicured hand around her elbow. In the nick of time too, as Nesta’s fingers tightened around the half-empty margarita glass.

“You’re late,” she replied stubbornly, trying to be offended by Helion’s charming smile and dazzling beauty. Her date for the night, Helion looked like he had stepped fresh off the runway in a black, double-breasted satin tuxedo. _Fuck_. She needed to get laid. It had been months since Hybern Co. had started a massive patents war with Velaris, and Feyre had asked her for help. She had never been able to refuse Feyre, which was how she had ended up working the case with a bunch of overqualified associates with half a brain between them. _And_ how she ended up with exactly no time for herself. 

Harvard grads were not all they were cracked up to be.

“My apologies. I only just came from a meeting, darling,” he responded smoothly as he continued to guide her gently across the room. They moved further away from Tomas and his oh-so-punchable face. With a start, she realised that he had guided her all the way to the middle of the dance floor. _Screw Helion and his charm._

“May I have this dance?” A voice came from behind her. Startled, Nesta whirled around and came face-to-face with Cassian Ramirez. Formerly known as _fiancé. But that was a long time ago, Nesta._

She arched a single brow, nodding to Helion as he let go of her hand.

As Cassian offered an open hand, she composed herself, trying not to think about how handsome Cassian looked in his slick burgundy suit. She was a sucker for a good suit, and his hair was tied back, making his dark brown honey eyes all the more prominent. It didn’t help that he had worn that exact suit on their second date. It had been so long, but she could still remember him in exacting detail.

Nesta hasn’t laid eyes on Cassian Ramirez for at least a year and a half. Not since Tomas started getting violent. And even before then, they were on tenuous terms. Things had never been the same after she had stormed out of their apartment six years ago, her heart savagely ripped out and stepped upon. Nothing good ever came after that. It was all tortured glances from the other side of galas, avoiding bubbly messages from Feyre and Elain and Rhysand and Azriel to go out with them! and the unending ellipsis of unsent texts. Over and over again.

“She’s all yours,” Helion said, quirking his eyebrows. Nesta reflexively pinched Helion, and he winced before hurrying away. Cassian in the meantime, was gazing into her eyes, She could feel her hands start to sweat under his intense gaze, and as she tried to wipe her hands discretely on the thorned roses stitched into her stiff silk dress, Cassian offered a hand that Nesta took.

“I uh - ” as he stood in front of her, he suddenly seemed lost for words. Cassian's hand was warm and calloused and still perfect for her. Once, these caresses had been as natural and fluid as breathing. Even with the rift that stood between them, it still felt so right. 

She smiled serenely and ignored Cassian’s fumble, patently aware of Tomas in the corner. “We should probably dance.” The words hover in the air, an olive branch that she wonders if Cassian really deserves. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. They can’t make a scene tonight.

And if she’s telling the truth, she doesn’t want to either. After Tomas...Nesta craves the kind of blissful innocence she had with Cassian. Lingering kisses and slow mornings, late nights with coffee and curled up with each other.

“Uh-yes.” Cassian blushed, his olive skin flushing a cardinal as bright as her dress. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” He grasped the olive branch, as Nesta slid into his arms, his hand drifting to a respectable, brotherly place on her waist as he guided her into a delicate spin. Her skin was as delicate as ever, and as her hair grazed his hand, he shivered.

“Good.” The overture is gone as fast as it came. Her tone is brisk and terse, an end to the conversation. Why did he have to ask that of all questions? Unbidden, her eyes fall upon Tomas again, and she felt her lips purse tightly.

Cassian, perceptive as ever, gracefully glances over, his eyes darkening as they landed on the arrogant lawyer in the corner.

“Yes, I heard that you got together with Mandray,” he said tightly.

Nesta’s fiery gaze slid back to him, as she hissed, “That’s none of your business. Why are you here anyway? Last I heard, you had left for San Francisco.” _You were the one that left me. Again and again and again._ The thought bubbled up, and Nesta squashed it, willing her tone to remain firm and steady.

He grimaced but didn't fall for Nesta's bait. “You know why I’m back.” His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze firmly upon her as they kept on dancing. Nesta forced yet another smile with gritted teeth.

“Fuck Azriel. That’s not his right and he goddamn knows it!”

“Hybern is dangerous. Don’t be stubborn. You know better than that.” Impassive and cold, his words ignite a fury in Nesta.

“Stubborn? You have the nerve to call me stubborn? After that stunt you pulled-”

His brows furrowed in pain and she felt the urge to dig her nails into the pad of her palm. Anything to stop herself from apologizing for the gaping wound she had re-opened with half a sentence but before she could say something he cleared his throat and said quietly, “I’m sorry. That was - a poor choice of words on my part.”

Nesta scoffed, her fury blanketed again. She didn’t say a word.

“We really do have to get you a security detail,” he pressed instead.

“You mean _you_.” She accused. He doesn’t object. Azriel would never have just asked anybody to protect Nesta. 

“I don’t need a security detail. I’m fine. I know how to kick somebody in the balls,” she said emphatically, trying to resist the urge to rip Cassian a new one. She doesn’t want to hurt him. Not really. Not the way he hurt her. “And if Hybern comes after me in any other way, I will systematically _destroy_ them.”

“As delightfully painful and visceral that sounds, some things require a more delicate touch.” he said, suddenly smirking in a false bravado that Nesta sees right through. “Hybern will be after you in more ways than one. I can help with that. Or have you forgotten my degree in-”

“Cybersecurity and computer science. I remember. Doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. Elain and Feyre need it more than me.” Her voice is brusque and words to the point. _I don’t need this. And even if I did...you would be the last person I ever asked._

His only response was a growl. The smirk disappeared as fast as it came.

“You know as well as I do that Feyre and Elain both have martial arts training. You were the only one who never wanted to learn. Which is fine, but they can protect themselves physically. Unless if you suddenly earned a black belt in the past two years, that kick in the balls and viper mouth won’t keep them down.

“Please, sweetheart,” she hears him beg. Was that anguish in his voice? The nickname dropped so naturally from his lips, but as soon as he says it she flinched, seizing up. _You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you? A pretty little thing..._ The memory comes back so swiftly that she almost reels. Cassian lifted his hands from her immediately, his eyes questioning.

She pursed her lips firmly. “Don’t call me that.”

Cassian bowed his head and Nesta sees a glimpse of torment, can just barely hear him curse himself as he bites down on his lip. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” _It's not why you think. It's much worse._

They dance along to three more songs, before Nesta announced she was tired. She had made her presence known, and ensured that Tomas knew she was in peak ability for their impeding legal battle. Meeting Cassian had not been part of the plan. It left her with the kind of bone-deep weariness that she hasn’t felt since pulling three all-nighters in a row as a law intern.

“Let me drive you home. You still haven’t bought a car, right?” he offered. There was no denying that. Nesta had never seen the need for a car in New York, but she scowled anyway as she disparagingly asked him if he was drunk.

“Not a drop,” he promised. When they had been together, they had rarely drank. Part of Nesta had always wondered if he had reverted back to his pre-Nesta college days of drinking after their less-than-ideal breakup. She glanced over at Feyre and Rhysand who were still dancing together happily, nodding a goodbye, before waving to Azriel and Elain. _All of them...in their lover’s cuddles._ A wave of jealousy washed over her before she clamped it down, breathing out quickly.

“Fine. You remember where I live, right?” She asked, letting him drape her matching red coat over her shoulders. Watching Cassian’s hands linger on the ruby red coat before he helped her into it almost made her regret wearing it.

Red had always been their thing.

\---

How could he forget her home? The brownstone, with its first and second floors decked out in rich brocade and tapestry, hardwood floors for visitors. But then, her third and fourth floors; soft modern furnishings. Carpet so thick that his feet sunk into it. A walk-in closet, wholly converted into a sunken lounging area, snug and cosy surrounded by her favourite novels. Late nights with Nesta curled into him as he read romance novels to her or they watched some trashy flick. 

His tongue suddenly felt swollen. He couldn’t breath for a moment. Instead, he nodded, opening the passenger door for her as the valet pulled his car up.

He had to get a grip on himself.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, looking over to check on Nesta. As he does, his eyes fall onto her monogrammed leather clutch.

_NJA._

“So you’re Azriel's girl with the fancy monogrammed bracelet,” Cassian says. He dangles the golden chain with its delicate monogrammed heart in front of her, but frowns when he spots the faint tan line on her wrist. Immediately, he feels like an ass for playing around with something clearly so sentimental to the girl. 

Nesta’s eyes look up as he slides over her gold bracelet. “I'm not Azriel's _girl_." As she glances over at him properly, she glares and adds, "And you’re the trust fund baby. Not sure why you’re talking,” she hits back. She grabs the bracelet and clasps it on immediately. No thank you. She had left it behind in the apartment Azriel and Cassian had shared, and Cassian had taken it upon himself to bring it back to her. 

Cassian snorts. “Clearly. As if wearing a _monogrammed_ 24-carat gold bracelet isn't a sign of being a trust fund kid."

Nesta pushes up her glasses, puckers her lips and says primly, “I, unlike you, actually pay for my own things."

Cassian shrugs and then foolhardily remarks, "Not if I take you to dinner." He smirks, the kind of panty-dropping grin that has worked so effectively in the past. 

"In your dreams, asshole."

Three months later, he knew he was in love with her. She was it for him. He graduated college, while she continued law school. Cassian had moved into her brownstone, bequeathed by her mother. He had promised to never hurt her, that he would always be there for her. 

But somewhere along the line, he had fucked it up. Sent her running to Tomas. His hand clenched, fingers digging into his palm, sending a dull pain through his body. _It’s her life._ He doesn’t get a say. And he knows, knows that he would never impede upon her choices. But he feels a lot.

“Cassian?” Nesta’s confused voice cut through and he ripped his gaze from the purse.

“Sorry. Let’s get going.” His voice is short. Terse. But Nesta doesn’t question it, instead settling into the leather seat and sighing, her eyes fluttering shut.

He remembered how social events always drained her. She loved dressing up but hated talking to everyone. It exhausted her, having to put on that facade of unthreatening politeness, when she was really a viper. A viper in pearls and stilettos, ball gowns and dripping in diamonds, but a viper nonetheless.

As he pulled up, he realised with a start that Nesta had fallen asleep. Her loose, dark hair was strewn across her shoulders, and Cassian wants more than anything to tuck it behind her ear. To do anything so that the way her forehead was creased, even in sleep, softened and-

“Nesta,” he said abruptly instead. He can’t keep fantasising. It’s not fair for her, not when it’s his fault. _His fault, his fault, his fault._ When he sees her, all he can see is his mistakes, again and again and again.

Her face reddened as she fumbles with her clutch. “Let me check everything’s okay, alright?” He reassured her.

Nesta nods without a fight, still tired. She passed him her keys without a fuss, following him as they walk up the stairs to the brownstone.

As soon as he unlocked the front door, he noticed the heavy, musk scent. It’s so out of place with the light, lavender and floral scents that Nesta has always favoured. _But maybe something changed after you left._ It wasn’t until he nearly tripped over the box right behind her door that he realised something was very, very wrong. As he inhaled, he tried to keep his stomach from lurching.

“Nesta, I want you to stay calm, okay?” he said carefully, pulling out his gun. Her eyes widened, her hand trembling as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” _Liar. Liar. Liar._ It thrummed in his head, making it hard to concentrate. “Just call Azriel, okay? Tell him to bring the Level 1 team. And hurry.” She nodded, pulling out her phone and dialling. As she started talking, he glanced back at the box.

Inside the cardboard box, was a decapitated snake nestled amongst red roses. The same cardinal as Nesta’s dress. It doesn’t take a genius to realise the death threat. Not when he was pretty certain the snake was a viper. The stench wasn’t just from the dead snake, he realised.

The roses had been dipped in blood.

Cassian took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hand. _Focus. Nesta needs you._

Because Nesta’s never been one to listen to Cassian, she had, unbeknownst to him, walked over and looked over his shoulder. He only realised when he heard her gasp in fear, hand reaching up to her throat as if she was being choked. 

Immediately, Cassian turned around, holding her. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he promised. “I’ve got you. Do you still have the go bag we made?” He remembers teaching her how to be safe in the old, cavernous brownstone. He had bought her the grey cargo bag two weeks after they started dating. He had probably come on a little strong, but at the time, he didn’t care.

Nesta clutched onto his shirt, but he felt her nod against him. Selfishly, a part of him feels gratified that she still feels some measure of comfort in him. The rest of him hates himself for even thinking that at this moment. “Okay. Once Azriel and my team gets here, we’ll get the bag and you’ll spend the night at my place. Is that okay?”

She let out a sob, and Cassian tightened his grip on her. After what seemed like an eternity, Azriel pulled up, his face drawn and tight. Azriel and Nesta had been friends for longer than even Cassian had known Azriel. They were twin souls of fire and ice, with a deep understanding of each other.

Cassian nodded to Azriel, his eyes a silent order to him. Azriel inclined his head ever so slightly, and Cassian returned his focus to Nesta. “Azriel’s going to get your bag. Then we’re going to get out of here.”

There was a single nod from Nesta as they walked towards the minivan, Rowan sliding open the door for them. Two minutes later, Azriel returned with the grey duffel bag that made Cassian’s heart clench. It hurt more than he could say that Nesta had kept the bag. But it lit a new fire in him too.

Nesta had regained her poise, sitting ramrod straight on the bench, seatbelt clicked into place. As Cassian and Azriel took seats on either side of her, she didn’t say a word. But her hands were clenched so tight, her knuckles were white and her skin was blanched.

“We’ve got you,” Cassian said quietly as he looked at Azriel over Nesta. Azriel’s face was easy to read: _Don’t fuck this up. You better not make me regret my decision to call you._

As Rowan drove, the only thing Cassian could think was _she’s in danger again. I have to protect her._

_I swear, I won’t fail you ever again Nesta._

_I swear it on my life._


	2. Incendiary Ember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn’t deja vu. He would never forget the first time.

Cassian was staring at her.

To be fair to him, so was Azriel. But she could feel the intense gaze of Cassian as he looked over her, checking if she was okay. _Of course I’m not okay. How could I be?_ She wanted to scream.

Instead, she bit her mouth together so hard that she felt the metallic tang of blood on her lips. She made a show of pulling out her phone, intent on responding to emails or reading the news or anything that would make her stop feeling like she was burning up from rage and terror and misery.

But she couldn’t.

Try as she might, opening her emails, all she did was mindlessly scroll through them, her eyes glazed and unable to focus. There was this pounding in her head, and her ears were ringing and she just wanted it to _stop_.

They finally reached Azriel’s apartment, and he offered a hand for her to step down from the van, his eyes flat and serious.

The momentary relief Nesta felt as she sat down on Azriel’s grey couch shattered as she saw Cassian bring in the box.

“Let me see that,” she said. The need is itching up again. She can’t help herself.

Cassian ignored her, and dumped the box unceremoniously in the corner of the living room, before turning his golden brown eyes to her, scanning her over.

“Are you hurt?” He asked. _How predictable._

Nesta doesn’t answer.

It’s fucking petty, but after the day she’s had? She deserves to be petty.

The ensuing silence is finally broken when the silver haired man introduced himself to her, his voice clipped and emotionless. “Rowan Whitehorn. I served alongside Ramirez and Hernandez in Afghanistan. USAF.”

Nesta nodded, reaching out a hand to shake his perfunctorily, despite her hands being numb and clammy. She had to see that box again. She needs to know. But Cassian stood in front of it, his stance heavy and unmoving. Instead, she looked over at Azriel, questioning.

Azriel blushed as he considered. “Nesta - Cassian’s already taken the spare room. I can take the couch if you-”

“You can take the spare room,” Cassian said to Nesta, cutting in. His eyes were on her again, burning with a fiery intensity. _Had they ever left her?_

Azriel had turned silent, his eyes helpfully drifting away to the slate wall behind them for a moment of privacy. Rowan followed suit, his cool eyes gazing ahead blankly. _Why bother?_

She just wanted this day to be over. “Fine.” She knew her tone was brusque, but she was done. Done with Hybern. Done with Cassian. With herself. “Goodnight,” She offered to the room, avoiding Cassian’s gaze.

The guest room is just as she remembered it. Cassian had made the bed carefully, the navy sheets folded into hospital corners in a way she had never learnt to grasp. His clothes were folded over the chair, black suitcase tucked into the corner of the room.

Nothing personal...except for a book on the nightstand. The burgundy hardback is scratched, with creases across the spine, but the instant she picked it up she recognised it for what it was. A first-edition copy of Jane Austen’s _Northanger Abbey._

That she had gifted him, six Christmases ago. He had kept it.

She had bought the novel to remind him that she would love him forever, even when he was deployed and in some foreign country. That she was with him, no matter where he went.

In the end it didn’t matter. He was the one who had broken up with her after all. But it didn’t stop her eyes from pricking with tears as she stared at the novel she never thought she would see again.

“You-uh-you weren’t meant to see that.” Cassian’s voice appeared from behind her, and as she turned around she noticed that not for the first time tonight, his cheeks were flushed.

With her back still turned to him, she breathed out silently, willing herself not to do something stupid like cry or laugh. As she turned around, she asked “Why not? It’s yours. I gifted it to you, remember?” _Remember, remember how much I loved you? How much...I love you?_

All six foot three of Cassian stiffened, his face becoming unreadable. Once, reading Cassian had been as natural as breathing.

Without saying a word, he left, closing the door softly as he did, leaving the book in her hands.

She wished he had slammed it.

\--

Watching her hold that book had been heart-wrenching. Cassian wasn’t sure he could take much more of it.

It had been so long since he had seen her in the flesh. Her silky, raven hair. Her baby hairs sticking up, despite her relentless scraping and gelling. Her sinful form in that crimson red she had always favoured. Red is luck, she had told him. _In Chinese culture, it represents vitality and strength. Fire. Good fortune._ Her dark brown eyes...almost black. The way they could analyse and comprehend at a second’s glance. But most of all, her scent. That warm, intoxicating scent of lavender that dissolved into a delicate wood Nesta had once told him was silver birch.

He knew what perfume it was. Jo Malone. Silver Birch and Lavender. _He had bought it for her, once upon a time._ It was almost comical that the name was so simple. But when she wore it, it couldn’t be replicated. It just wasn’t right.

And the book...the fucking book. The one he had treasured every night and read on repeat for months during his deployment, until he could recite whole passages from memory, every word and sentence ingrained into his mind, a permanent burn of what he had done to her.

It killed him inside.

Azriel gave him a half-sympathetic, half contemptuous look, his eyes narrowed slightly as he considered Cassian. As if coming to some kind of conclusion, he sat down next to him on the couch.

“You still haven’t told her the truth?”

Cassian closed his eyes sinking into the couch as he tried to focus on anything but Nesta. “What clued you in?”

Azriel cracked a smile then, and replied, “I think there would have been a lot more crying and shrieking from a certain party.”

Cassian snorted. The idea of Nesta shrieking seemed so improbable but he still wanted to see it. He wanted to see and learn everything about her, all over again.

But that was never going to happen.

Certainly not now, when the death threats against Nesta were escalating.

Azriel groaned as he tried to stretch out the kinks in his back, sighing as he looked at the box in the corner, pointedly looking at Cassian.

He sighed heavily in response, tapping two quick fingers over his heart. _I know._

Rowan had cleared out quietly and it was just Azriel and Cassian left. _Are you going to be okay?_ Azriel asked silently to his older brother.

He settled back into the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. It was no good. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was the snake, its beady eyes lifeless and its head decapitated. Deja vu.

Azriel sighed and punched Cassian lightly, making the corner of his lips tilt up before he left. 

God. The foul smell and the roses. Fucking roses. There must have been dozens of them, crammed into the box, each dipped in some kind of animal blood. (He hoped it was animal blood. The idea that it wasn’t was something he couldn’t even consider at this moment).

This wasn’t deja vu. He would never forget the first time.

He didn’t think it could have been worse, but he was clearly wrong. This was worse.

Suddenly, he heard a door creak open and foosteps on the wood floors. “Azriel?” He whispered into the dark.

There was no reply. His body instinctively tightened, brushing away the blanket haphazardly as he struggled to make out who it was.

“Just me.”

A rush of air left him feeling stupid. Nesta walked carefully past him, expertly avoiding that creaky floorboard before she entered the kitchen. She was clad in heart-printed fluffy socks and soft red strawberry pajamas, but she walked as if she was clad in metal armour.

“Are you - uh - getting water?” His words felt foolish to him as soon as he said them. He can’t help himself, not around her. His hand tensed again, clenching and unclenching as he tried to slow his racing heartbeat. In the middle of the night, with everyone asleep, it was too easy to want her again.

As if he had ever stopped.

She paused, and he could feel her weighing her choices. As if wondering whether to deign to speak to him. He supposed, bitterly, that he deserved that after the forced conversations they had already had.

After all, the last words he had thrown in her face six years ago had been, _“I don’t love you anymore Nesta. In fact, I don’t see how anyone could.”_

It had left a fuzzy taste in his mouth that wouldn’t wash away and red blisters along his knuckles when he couldn’t stop hitting his punching bag. For months on end, when he closed his eyes at night all he could see was the unmistakeable glimmer of tears and her chin wobbling in a way that he knew meant she had cried after he left. After all that he had promised, that he would never hurt her. And then he had gone and fucked it all up. 

It had taken every ounce of willpower to not go running back to her and beg for forgiveness.

Nesta walked back to the guest room, her left hand pressed to the straight seams of her pyjamas until her nails where white, carrying the glass of water in the other. She didn’t look back and the door swung shut without a single word.

How does one tell another...I’m sorry I killed you inside but all I ever wanted to do was protect you? How does one tell another...I would give you up a thousand times so you could be alive and find happiness with another? How does one tell another...I have loved you for every moment since I last saw you and I could never forget you?

\--

Nesta woke up to Azriel’s living room covered in blue plastic sheets, lined from wall to wall.

The box was carefully deconstructed by Rowan and Dorian, yet another member of Cassian’s team. The police were infested with Hybern scum, as Cassian put it, and there was very little they couldn’t do with his own team. As Dorian started studying the roses and bagging parts of the box, Azriel touched the nape of his neck casually, eyes sliding over to Nesta.

She closed the door behind them, and asked, “What do you want?” Her eyes drifted to look behind him, avoiding eye contact.

Azriel was quiet. It wasn’t unusual - Nesta and Azriel had forged their friendship over introversion, sitting silently for hours often in the corners of parties they had been forced to attend by their respective friends. They discussed the economics of renewable energy and the burgeoning failure of democracy the way other people would discuss what they would consider lacklustre and mundane subjects.

Azriel’s grey eyes bore into Nesta’s, his forehead creased into a frown. “I’m sorry I didn’t consult you about Cassian,” he said bluntly. “I knew you would disapprove,” he continued. “But we both know that as stupid as my brother is, he’s the best choice to protect you. The police are absolutely fucked.” And wasn’t that the truth. Tomas’ dad had been a police captain.

Still was one.

It was why...it was why she could never report what he had done to her.

Nesta pursed her lips and stayed silent.

He stepped closer to her, and she felt her eyes prick with tears. Azriel was the guy who would have pummeled Tomas to a bloody pulp if she hadn’t stopped him. The guy who had stayed for three weeks on her couch after Tomas had assaulted her so she could sleep at night.

“Get over here,” he whispered, tugging her into his warm chest. Nesta latched onto his soft grey sweater and he strung his arms around her waist, hugging her close.

“You’re not forgiven.” She whispered into his sweater. Azriel’s chest vibrated slightly with laughter as he said, “Don’t I know it.”

By the time they had returned, the rest of Cassian’s team had bagged and marked most of the flowers, the snake and the box was nowhere to be seen. Rowan, Dorian and Mor were poring over documents with practiced eyes.

“We could get Aelin to prosecute the shit out of them,” Dorian said as he finally took off his glasses with a sigh. His gloves were smeared with blood. It was beginning to smell “It might be considered intimidation, especially since everyone knows Nesta’s spearheading this patents debacle.” He stared meaningfully at Azriel and Cassian, as if blaming them for Rhy’s predicament that had quickly spiralled into a mess. Cassian glared back, resolute.

But Nesta was already shaking her head. “It will never fly. Hybern _wants_ this. They want us to divert resources from the main battle. I can handle a snake or two.” Cassian was considering her words, his lips in a half smile as he looked over her.

It was awe, she realised.

It warmed her deep inside to know that Cassian still admired her, his gaze flowing over her like soft honey on a summer’s day.

“And besides, I have a plan.”

\--

She always had a plan. In the time that he had known her, Cassian could count on one hand the number of times he had seen her flustered in front of others. With him...it had been different. In the early months of their friendship she had gotten flustered regularly. He had only realised that she liked him when she began periodically unsending messages, as if she was hesitant to say the wrong thing.

Fortunately, having been glued to his phone waiting for her texts, he had seen her messages before she unsent them. That was how he realised she had asked him out.

_Hey, did you want to hang out on Saturday?_

And then, the last message he had sent her.

_I’m sorry. There was no other way._

Nesta hadn’t even bothered to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment letting me know what you thought :) 
> 
> Apologies for how delayed this is! I have been extraordinarily busy with educational endeavours and personal ongoing things so my life has been a bit hectic these past few months. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! 
> 
> ~J

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first fic so I would appreciate any and all feedback! Have a nice day :) 
> 
> ~J


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